Love Is Just A Blood Sport
by just sammich
Summary: Warnings: Blood play PWP


**Love Is Just A Blood Sport**

_Supernatural_

By: PlasticxNight

Warning: Wincest, Blood!Kink

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

Author's Note: My first pornful fic. Be gentle.

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"That fucker... ow... better be writing... ow... in hell for getting... ow... blood on my car..." Dean's bitching had started at the burn sight where he wished the werewolf, all too happily, off to hell with his rock salt and zippo. It had continued to the hotel room, which was a good thirty minute drive from where they'd tracked the damn thing. It was beginning to wear on Sam's nerves.

They had been in the process of hunting the Were down for almost a week. That had given them five days to stake places out and find a pattern. Last night's attempt had been a bust. The Were had knew they were there before they even saw it. Dean had been livid.

_"Should've checked to make sure we'd covered our tracks. We fucked up somewhere."_

Tonight had been a win or go home situation. If they hadn't ended it, then they would've had to come back in a month or hope that John caught it next time. Dean had gone in swinging and come out kicking mad. They'd set up in a different place and Dean had been itching, _itching_, to get his finger on the trigger to blow that sucker away. He'd gotten his wish with a few complimentary soon-to-be scars thrown in.

It came at them this time, hard and fast, but Dean was ready and looking for a fight. Two carefully aimed shots to the legs to immobilize it had ended up with Dean sailing through the air and into a bush, however. Sam had ended it with two shots; one too high, which caused the blood spatter across the hood of the car, and another to the heart. The beast howled mournfully before collapsing in a heap of fur and death.

Both of them were more than thankful that only the claws had gotten Dean and not the virus spreading fangs.

Sam eased him onto the bed, careful not to jar his wounded shoulder. The beast had gotten him good. Across the right pectoral and over his shoulder, Dean's shirt was in shreds and Sam didn't want to think about what he looked like underneath.

"Fuck," Dean breathed through clenched teeth. "Bastard didn't get too deep, but it burns."

The claws were probably filthy from gallivanting through the woods and city parks. God only knew what Dean could pick up if it set too long.

"Let me make sure the Impala is locked up and I'll clean 'em out," Sam said. He'd been lucky. The wolf hadn't gone after him until it was too late for it. Sam only wished that he'd gotten some of the pain.

"Try to get some of the blood off the hood," Dean called after him. "We don't need to draw attention to ourselves."

There had been blood on the seats as well, but Sam decided to leave it alone. He didn't want to somehow screw up the upholstery and have Dean murder him. It was his blood anyway, let him deal with it.

By the time Sam had gotten back inside, Dean had wrestled himself out of his shirt; with some trouble it seemed. He sat with his jaw set and his fists clenched around the sheets, and fuck did he look like a war hero. Bloody and bruised, but strong and reserved. It was as though he couldn't feel the pain, when Sam knew it had to feel like thousands of needles burning into his flesh.

Sam shifted on his feet, the chill from outside disappearing completely. The temperature skyrocketed and Sam started feeling claustrophobic in his own skin.

"You gonna stand there and let me bleed out or help me over here?"

Sam shook himself back to reality and mumbled a quiet apology as he walked over to the bed. He sat down beside him and set the first-aid kit down. His eyes flicked up to Dean's face before he gently took hold of his biceps; his thumb smearing some of the blood that had trailed from the wound. Dean hissed and Sam eased his grip. "Sorry," he said again.

Dean shook his head. "'S okay," he told him.

Sam let go of his arm and stood up before disappearing into the bathroom. He pulled a few wash cloths down from the rack and put them in the sink before turning the water on. He turned his hand over, staring at the crimson smears on his finger tips. Dean's blood. Sam brought his hand up and flicked his tongue over his blood-stained thumb.

"You die in there?" Dean called, and Sam pulled his thumb from his mouth; the metallic taste lingering on his tongue.

"Yeah, I'm coming," Sam called back turning the water off and ringing out the excess water from the cloths.

Coming back out, Sam sat beside him and set one of the wash cloths on the first-aid kit. Again, he took Dean's arm and started to gently wipe the blood off, his eyes following the trails before they were wiped away. Dean groaned softly and uttered a few curses, but Sam continued to clean the blood around the wounds.

"Don't press down so hard."

Sam nodded. "'m sorry," he murmured his eyes flicking up to Dean's face a moment.

"Don't apologize," Dean said. "Just be more gentle."

"No," Sam shook his head, his breath hot against Dean's arm. "'m sorry."

Dean stiffened and blinked a few times. "Sammy?" he questioned before he felt Sam's tongue swipe a burning trail over his arm. He jerked away, nearly falling off the bed. "What the hell, Sam?" Dean asked, standing.

Sam's gaze lifted from where Dean had been to where he stood now, the taste of Dean's blood and skin burning itself into his memory. Dean's eyes were wild with confusion, but he held his gaze. He should've expected that reaction, but he'd done it anyway. And Dean's blood was like a drug, the addiction already rooted in his brain. His eyes flickered over his chest quickly before he looked back to his face. "I said I was sorry."

"Before. Why the hell did you do it?" Dean snapped.

Now he was angry, the confusion flickering to anger in a flash. Sam looked away and shrugged. Seemed like something to do? Dean would beat him senseless if he answered like that. "I..." he really didn't know why he'd done it.

"You what? Wanted to scare the fuck out of me? Well you succeeded, Sam! Congrats!"

"Please don't yell, Dean," Sam mumbled

"Don't yell? What do you expect me to do?" Dean snapped as Sam stood. "Shrug it off and ignore it? Can't do that, Sam, kinda hard to ignore your brother —" His rant bled into a high whimper as Sam closed his hand around Dean's arm, shoots of pain shutting him up.

"Stop yelling," Sam said calmly before softening his grip. "I..., I don't know why I did that."

"Sam, let me go."

"Why?" Dean only tugged to get away. "Is it because you're scared, Dean?" Sam asked leaning closer. "Are you worried that I might do something?" Dean nodded. Sam stared a moment before dipping his head slightly as Dean closed his eyes.

"Then push me away," he breathed against his ear before lowering his head and swiping his tongue across the skin near the torn flesh.

Dean gasped quietly and grabbed Sam's shoulder. He could – should – push him away. He should end this before things went too far to come back from. But Sam's tongue was like fire on his skin and it that didn't feel like heaven on Earth he wasn't sure what did. He opened his eyes slowly and glanced at Sam. He was still, waiting. Dean squeezed his shoulder gently and worked to steady his breathing.

Sam glanced up at him and Dean nodded. Sam brought his other had to rest on Dean's hip. Again, he tensed. He dipped his head again and ran his tongue over Dean's collarbone, and Dean trembled slightly. Sam smiled nuzzling his neck before sucking on the blood-stained skin on his shoulder.

Dean moaned low in his throat and threaded his fingers through Sam's hair. It hurt, but the shivers of pleasure caused by the sucking and flicks of Sam's tongue dulled it almost to nothing. It was a nice sensation that surged through his body.

Sam pulled away slowly, licking at the abused skin before lifting his head and pressing his blood-stained lips to Dean's. Usual reaction. Before Sam could catch himself, Dean's hold on the back of his head tightened, and Dean was kissing him back. A sound escaped his throat as he flicked his tongue over Dean's lips, pulling him closer. Dean's lips parted and Sam took that as a welcome invitation.

Dean almost pulled away when he tasted blood, but he moaned with realization. That was his blood on Sam's tongue. His. He rocked his hips forward which stilled Sam's exploration. He ran his tongue over the underside of Sam's tongue before sucking on it, hard; relishing the taste of himself on Sam's tongue.

Sam squeezed his hip and pushed Dean back, half stumbling. He pressed Dean back against the wall, grinding his hips into Dean's. His brother moaned, releasing his tongue, and tilted his head back against the wall.

"Fuck, Sammy," Dean panted as Sam rocked against him. To hell with right or wrong. Their lives were fucked up anyway. He groaned quietly, his hand sliding from Sam's hair to the back of his neck.

Sam kissed his throat, nipping gently, which elicited a low moan from Dean. He sucked on Dean's jaw, his eyes cracking open. He wasn't even aware that he'd closed them. Running his tongue along the bone, Sam nipped at the skin just below his ear. "Still worried?" he breathed against his ear, and Dean shook his head.

He ran his tongue over the skin behind Dean's ear before nipping at the shell of his ear. Sam smiled when Dean groaned. He rolled his hips forward again before pressing his lips harshly to Dean's to suffocate the moan that was lost in his mouth. He sucked on his bottom lip as he ran his blood-stained fingertips down Dean's chest.

Sam dipped his head again to his wounded shoulder, and Dean's hand sank to his shoulder, pressing lightly. Sam lapped at the drying blood, sucking gently. Dean added more pressure. He looked up, his lips stained with blood.

"Please?" Dean panted.

Sam blinked a few times. "... Please... wha..." he trailed off as Dean pushed again. His face flushed pink. This was going passed anything that had formed in his mind, but any inhibitions he'd had were long gone. He nuzzled against Dean's neck and lapped at the blood again; Dean groaned in distress. Sam's hand stroked down his chest again and slid passed the top of his jeans before he popped the button.

Dean groaned again and pushed his hips towards Sam's hand, who in turn pressed down. "Christ, Sammy," he panted as Sam dragged the zipper down slowly. "Stop being a fucking tease!" he hissed.

Licking up one last trail of blood, Sam looked up at him as he dropped slowly to his knees. He placed his hands firmly on Dean's hips and nuzzled the soft patch of blonde hairs that disappeared beneath Dean's jeans. He felt the muscles jump beneath his cheek as he nipped at Dean's abdomen. Dean whined and pushed forward as Sam eased off his jeans.

Sam looked up at Dean before pressing open-mouthed kisses to the front of Dean's boxer-briefs, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. Dean's hand flew to the back of Sam's head, his fingers tangling in his hair, and tried pressing him closer. He whined when Sam pressed hard against his hips and pulled away a bit. Sam frowned looking up at him, his kiss-bruised lips giving him a child-like pout.

"Sammy... please... for the love of fucking Gaaaah!" His head hit the wall as Sam eased his briefs over his erection at a painfully slow pace. "Fuck, Sam," he ground out.

Sam pushed Dean's briefs down to his knees before placing one hand on his hip. His eyes flickered up to his brother's rapidly rising and falling chest as he lapped up the precum that had gathered at the head of Dean's cock. Dean moaned deep in his throat and pushed Sam's head forward again. Sam nuzzled into Dean's hip and his brother whined before he curled his free hand around the base of his cock and drew the head in to his mouth.

Dean moaned loudly as his brother sucked and licked at the head of his cock. He tugged at Sam's tried to thrust forward, deeper into that warm, wet heat. San let him, though he kept him from going too deep. Dean pushed his head forward and tried to thrust in at the same time, needing more like he needed air.

"Fuck, Sammy," Dean panted before his vocabulary completely became null and void as Sam sucked him off, a panted curse or _sammy_ escaping his lips in hoarse pants.

Sam twisted his wrist as Dean fucked his mouth. He gave it his all like Dean did with hunting. He used any trick he could remember and moaned as he moved the hand on Dean's hip to the front of own jeans.

Dean looked down at him, panting heavily, and moaned loudly as he watched his dick slide in and out of Sam's mouth. His pretty mouth with those pretty blood-stained lips. He groaned loudly and thrust harder, faster. "Sammy! I..., I'm... uhnn... I'm gonna... ahhh..." He stilled as he came hard in Sam's mouth, holding tightly to his brother's hair as though it was his line to the world.

Sam swallowed every bittersweet drop that Dean gave, his eyes closed as he ignored the dull pain in the back of his head caused by Dean's hand. He pulled away as Dean's hold loosened, his own hand still holding his erection firmly. He let Dean slide from his mouth and got to work on his own jeans, needing to reach his own release.

Dean sank down beside him after fixing his briefs. He dropped his hands from Sam's head to the back of his neck and pulled him into a gentle kiss, tasting himself yet again on Sam's tongue. He rested his other hand over the one Sam had buried in his jeans as he pulled away slowly. "Let me," he said quietly pulling Sam's hand free. His brother whimpered softly, but moaned Dean's name as he came after one stroke even with the awkward position.

Sam rested his forehead against Dean's unwounded shoulder as they sat against the wall in a post-orgasmic haze. He ran his fingers along the darkening skin next to the tears, smearing clouds of crimson over a tan canvas. He looked up at Dean's face, calm and collected with his eyes closed, and smiled as he drew his stained fingers to his mouth and cleaned them. One. By. One.


End file.
